Quite a lucid morning, with my kinsfolk,
The denizens of ukhun,
Indifferent of their mien.
Ascending the hill, experimenting the soothing walk on the dry mud.
Peering downwards trying to reactivate the sight of the long aged
Then I had realized I what had befallen me, what the mind readers
call decay of memory trace. I took off my shoes, somewhat skeptical
of its safety,
Then came a voice, its a taboo for someone to take someone else's
belonging in the precincts of the stream. This gave me a great sense
Descending, its waters came with a gleaming flow, reflecting its
morning sunlight that had just arisen from its slumber which the
moon had earlier sent to parking.
Trying to appreciate a piece of clay, by what the porters make out
of it, I was once again prompted that it was a taboo.
As a minor then, the only thing that did not pose any difficulty in
retrieving, was the vigor in which the water flows, which remains
indelible, and unchanging.
With its enduring flow of life which brought the picture of the one
every straight loves to love.- futile though!
We descended the hill, the inquisitive had discovered a crab hole,
never seen such before, but it had spoken for itself, because of its
ugly inhabitant, the crab!
Can i strike? "Its a taboo" that's all I ever hear! Except for the
one i love to love, she isn't a taboo, I had muttered.
While the minors walked ahead, i tried studying the woods
surrounding the stream, the inquisitive could find his way around,
at least not lost memory trace of the path.
Catching up with them, the youngest of them flexed downward
liberating the dried leaves from what looked like a crucifix
engraved on the fairly dry mud. the inquisitive had inquired
again,-it is a prevision to know if there was a meal awaiting them
at home, since the leaves had fallen on it, there was food awaiting
him,-that was the most bewihting of all I had seen at ukhun.
The Political & Spiritual Purpose of the